


My Archer

by origamigf



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, OSASUNA BREAKUP, Song: The Archer (Taylor Swift), Songfic, osamu is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/origamigf/pseuds/origamigf
Summary: Suna thought everything was perfect until it wasn't, but eventually it works out.This is a collaborative work with the amazing @danotiel on twitter! This project is for the lovely Farah or @rarazsho on twitter as well!SELAMAT HARI JADI FARAH!! SAYA SAYANG AWAK!!!
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	My Archer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rarazsho](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rarazsho).



> WARNING: OSASUNA BREAKUP. THIS IS A SUNAKIA FIC.

Anguish. 

It is defined as, ‘severe mental or physical pain or suffering’. 

Something is crushing his heart right now, squeezing yet tearing it apart at the same time. His skin feels sensitive, sensing every piece of fabric dragged against his skin. It’s overwhelming, and he feels like he’s about to burst, but at the same time, it’s the only thing grounding him. He doesn’t feel feverish, but his fingers are freezing as they clasp tightly around the straps of his schoolbag. He knows he’s breathing, he does, but it doesn’t feel like he is. He feels like he’s suffocating, staring onward with no real reason. 

He just stares, the shock washing through every part of him. He opens his mouth and closes it before doing it again and failing to utter a single world. His mouth is dry and he swallows, his throat has grown a little tighter. He can’t think, he can’t say anything. He doesn’t even feel like he could move, even if someone tried to force him to. 

Maybe he’s a statue, unable to move. He’s just meant to stand there, completely still and unwavering. Maybe because he’s a statue that those dark brown eyes gock back at him. He watches with a trance gaze as the teammate before him opens his mouth and speaks. 

“Suna…” And just like that, he’s not a statue anymore. The brittle concrete cracks, falling away from him and shattering on the ground in little pieces like gravel. Just like how Osamu did to his heart. If it’s dramatic to say, well, he doesn’t really care. 

“No, don’t…” He reaches at his own face, gripping onto his cheek. He can feel the sting of his nails as he digs further in, but he doesn’t care. He barely even registers it. He lifts his feet and takes a step back as the cycle of grief runs through him like a fucked-up speedrun. His eyes no longer stuck on the somber face of the twin, his eyes twist and dart away from that man’s eyes. He doesn’t want to look past the guilt that is expressed clearly on his face. “Y...you wouldn’t do this. Sure, you and Atsumu are competitive and you guys get a bit crazy, but you wouldn’t...right?” 

He watches Osamu’s balled hands tighten, trembling a little. He hears the nervous intake of breath. 

“I told him it was a bad idea, I did….but y’know Tsumu,” Osamu almost sounded like he was pleading, begging for Suna to understand. He says these words, regret and pain dripping from his words with every bated breath. “He’s convincin’,”

“What...what was this for?” Suna managed to say, so many thoughts and feelings were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t manage to express a single one. He was never the best at expressing how he feels. He’s never been great at words, he’s always been a type who would rather show than tell. But how can he show every roaring emotion inside him? How can he show the pain and the betrayal coursing through his veins like the side effect of a dangerous drug? 

Is that what Osamu is? A drug? You aren’t supposed to mess with drugs, stuff like that will mess you up for life. One hit is all it takes to be addicted and depending on it just to function decently. Is that what’s happening here? 

“Ya don’t wanna know,” Osamu says as Suna finally manages to look at him, confused by the expression of pain on his face. He was the one who did this. Aren’t people who betray people supposed to be happy when they hurt someone? Are the people who hurt you supposed to be undoubtedly bad? Aren’t they assholes and that’s all they are? “It’s stupid, real dumb, I woulda never involved ya in it, but Tsumu…”

He feels a rush of anger come over him. “Well too late! You already got me involved, so stop putting the fuckin’ blame on your brother and tell me how it is! What was the point of it all? What was the endgame of messing with me?” 

Osamu seems taken back, almost on-edge as if he was in some sort of danger. Suna isn’t a violent person at all, he’s pretty good at keeping calm too, but that all flies out the window. His fingers are burning as the rough fabric of the straps rubs against the creases in his fingers the wrong way, and his eyes are stinging, the waterworks rushing forward. It was as if he was a dam, fighting the waves of tears from coming forth. 

“...puddin’ for life.”

And just like that, the dam is broke. 

“Puddin’?” He whispers, his words airy. He stands there in silence as he tries to understand this. He tries to understand why someone he valued and cherished honestly and genuinely would do this to him. He’s always been cautious and careful, he doesn’t just do anything for the heck of it. He takes good care of himself, he never misses practice, and he makes good grades. He’s a good student, a good player, and a good son. Naturally, he’d assume he’d be a good friend and a good boyfriend, especially when it came to Osamu. It had been a shot in the dark when he said ‘Sure, I have nothing else going on’ when Osamu asked him out in a small, but cute voice. 

Why is this happening to him?

Did he do something to Osamu? Or even Atsumu? Did he anger them in some way? Piss them off a little much when jabbing at them? 

No...he knows that isn’t it. 

The fact is, there isn’t a reason for this. The reason Osamu gave isn’t good enough. No reason would be good enough. Everything falls flat in the face of everything tugging on his heart, weighing him down in a frozen mess before the man who played with his heart. 

A casual relationship with mild interest unknowingly grew more serious, just like a flame, and before he knew it, it was everything to him. And now its all gone. It’s over. It was never there to begin with, Osamu was never there. 

He had shared kisses and held hands with him on boring dates out to a shop or the movies. Sometimes, they found themselves wandering to a park and ending up on the swings, just moping and complaining about how Atsumu did this or that and how he needed to man up and ask for that girl’s number already. 

And it was all a lie, a fabrication. For what? 

His hand wandered upward, grasping onto the brown locks of hair and tugging onto them. “So what? You...you dated me and said you liked me, for  _ what _ ? Fucking pudding? You spent months of your life, spending time with me, kissing and laughing with me for some cheap pudding? You stole six months of my life with the added bonus of tragic heartbreak for a dumb dessert?” 

“...yes?” 

Tears were flowing down his cheeks, salty and painful tears. 

“Suna, I’m sorry…” He watched with confusion as Osamu teared up too, agony reflected in his regretful eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to go on this long, I planned on breaking it to ya ages ago but no time ever felt right. But then ya said ya were in love with me last week and I knew I had to….I had to tell ya.” 

“A little too late, Miya.” He growled. 

“Suna, you’re my friend.” Osamu looked down at the ground. “I still consider you my friend.”

“Don’t, just don’t,” Suna said, his words sharper and more hurt than ever. “I don’t trust you anymore.” 

“I-I’m sorry, Suna…” Osamu said. 

“Shut up.” He scowled, his angry tears kept pouring and pouring. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for his fiery gaze to make Osamu disappear, for the ground to swallow him whole, but that never works. No matter how powerful of an emotion you feel, you’ll always be disappointed by the real consequences of reality. 

And just like that, he turned away. He forced himself to turn back and make Osamu hear every bad thing he had to say about him, to not let his emotions overtake him because at the end of the day, he was better than that. 

He was better than Osamu. 

He would prove that. 

  
  


_ ‘I say I don't want that but what if I do? _

_ 'Cause cruelty wins in the movies,  _

_ I've got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you.’  _

The words are scrambled down, not knowing what he’s thinking or feeling truly. There was this suffocating pain in his chest, one that was tearing him apart. He felt like his mind was blank, yet so many thoughts seemed to be rushing through his head, each one hitting harder and sharper than the last. He wanted to scream, that seemed like the only option in order to get this pain out, to truly release himself from this torture, but he knew he couldn’t. Instead, he tried his best to cope with this stupid journal that he had left blank for so many weeks after his mother got it for him for school. It wasn’t meant to be used for this, but he didn’t really care at this point. After all, he could always pick up another one if need be. 

He can’t express himself well. The one time he managed to, when he told Osamu that he loves him, turned out to be the worst mistake of his life. He wasn’t sure if he was a fool for letting someone in or a fool for believing that Osamu’s words were genuine. But none of that matters now, all that matters is the tip of the pencil against the lined paper of this shitty notebook as tears try to cease. 

His head is starting to ache and his throat feels dry. He just feels like a painful mess, but he can’t stop it. Everything is gone, just like that. 

There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to convey every little emotion he’s feeling right now. Someone he trusted and saw as a friend completely played him, and for what? A stupid bet with his idiotic brother, but in reality it was Osamu’s fault this happened. Not his older brother, even if he had a minor role to play in it all. He saw Osamu as a good guy, he was more than Atsumu’s twin too. He could be a good setter but he was equally a good middle, but he had aspirations outside of volleyball and a different road he wanted to take but never knew how to truly tell his brother for fear of what would happen. He seemed like such a good guy. 

And in sense, Suna still thinks he is. 

Good people make mistakes all the time, they do dumb shit and regret those moments for the rest of their lives. He wondered if that was the case here, if this would haunt Osamu. Or would it not bother him at all? Could he sleep at ease at night or would he be plagued with nightmares? 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Osamu anymore. He can’t say if Osamu is that sort of person or not. He’s not sure what he wants to be true, would it hurt more for Osamu to not be who he believed he was or for Osamu to be that exact person he knew who was filled with guilt and pain for what he had done to Suna? 

He shouldn’t feel this way towards someone who had betrayed him, lied to him, and used him for something for stupid like a life-time worth of fucking pudding. 

As he watches his tears slip off his chin and fall onto the page, wetting it and smearing the words written, he finds himself blinking by a familiar sound. It’s faint but in a quiet room in an abandoned house with no one at home, it’s easier to pick up. He feels overly dramatic. The house is quiet as can be and the windows of his room are drawn shut, the room is completely dim except for the weak lamp that sits on his desk, hovering over the center where the messily scribbled feelings are written in the worst hand-writing imaginable. 

He steps away from the desk and sits on his bed beside where he had thrown his schoolbag astray on the mattress. The buzzing has stopped, it was only a few moments that it was emitted in the room. He pulls the bag open by the zipper and reaches inside for his phone, pressing the home button to turn it on and is greeted by a sight he wants burned from his retinas. 

_ 2 Missed Calls from Samu _

_ Samu messaged you _

Begrudgingly, with tears still in his eyes, he opens up the messaging app on his phone. 

**_Samu_ **

_ I’m sorry _

_ I didn’t think any of this through, I didn’t mean to hurt you _

_ And look, I get that it’s too late for that sorta shit and i know that but please please don’t skip practice?  _

_ I tried calling but you didn’t pick up :(  _

_ I’m sorry, please, don’t leave because of me _

Words are just words at the end of the day. Osamu could fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness for the rest of time, but it’s up to Suna if he forgives him. It’s up to Suna if he comes back to the team, if he faces him. 

‘There’s no need to be so dramatic,’ Suna sneers at the messages before clicking on Osamu’s contact profile. ‘It was only one day missed. It’s fine if I miss a few more if I wanna, under these circumstances, if I wanna quit, then I’ll fucking quit. You won’t guilt me into shit.’ 

He doesn’t think, he just takes action. He clicks on the ‘Delete Contact’ option and presses ‘Yes’ when the app asks him if he’s sure. For good measure, he deletes Atsumu’s number too and makes a mental note not to answer any numbers from now on that aren’t saved in his phone. 

He already missed practice anyways, there’s no point showing up late. He’d get scolded by the coach for sure. He doesn’t feel like even looking at a volleyball, much less playing the damn sport. 

Plus, he thinks he has a pretty fucking good excuse for not showing up, after all. If someone has an issue with that, he doesn’t care. He’s in pain and he doesn’t care about anything else but that. 

He doesn’t care what anyone else has to say about it. 

He pulls his knees to his chest, his breath growing uneven and his tears flowing in a messy pool on his stupid jersey. He squeezed them abnormally close, even though it was uncomfortable, and buried his face into the top of his knees. The jersey he wore was burning his skin in all the wrong ways. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to throw it all away, to rip the jacket in half like Osamu had done to his own heart. 

He needed to, once he got back to school, he needed to rid himself of Osamu and everyone and everything that reminds him of the bastard twin. 

_ ‘Combat, I'm ready for combat. _

_ I say I don't want that, but what if I do?’ _

He skips class, finding himself unable to bear stepping inside the same space as Osamu. He doesn’t even want to try. Right before he turned, he got a good look at Osamu who was sitting there with his chin propped on the palm of his hand, looking bored out of his mind. Was he that bored when he was taking Suna out on dates to? Or was it entertaining? 

He doesn’t know. He won’t stick around to find out either. 

Before anyone can see him, before that callous man can even notice, he turns away as casually as possible and walks down the hallway. To anyone else, it would just look like a student on their way to class instead of a student skipping. He couldn’t take it here.

He didn’t want to be close to Osamu. He didn’t even want to be in the same building as him, let alone the same room as the guy. He couldn’t bear the thought of sitting there with the stupid twin only a few feet awat. Knowing a guy like that, he’d probably stare at him through all of first period. The moment they got a free period or it was time for a break, he would try and talk to Suna to see where they stand, to see where Suna is on forgiving him. 

He wasn’t even a step forward. He hadn’t made it an inch past these couple days. He spent his time holed up in his dark room with a pair of headphones thrown over his messy bedhair, a cover tightly wrapped around him, and sprawling words of hurt and treachery in his journal in the other hand. It was overly dramatic, almost cliche, but he didn’t care. He just wanted this done and over with. 

But that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon. The pain was clinging to him, refusing to let him go. It’s not like he wants to hate Osamu, he doesn’t, but he’s not sure if that’s right or not. Is he supposed to hate him? Or is he allowed to forgive? If he forgives, does that just mean Osamu has done a fine job at manipulating him, playing him like a toy as he sees fit? 

There’s a soft, almost comforting breeze as he steps out of the school and tumbles his way down the concrete steps. He raises his head, catching the gaze of building where they practice everyday. It’s painful to look at and he wants to look away, but he can’t. He finds himself walking over towards it a cautious, slow pace. His eyes dart around hesitantly, making sure there’s not a person in sight, not even the Coach. 

As he reaches the door, he pushes against and then remembers, it’s locked. School has started and they have their own gym inside for PE classes. Kita would have locked it up before heading to class. Always the diligent student and leader. 

He raises his hand and lays it against the metal door. It’s freezing against his hand. 

He did find volleyball fun. He enjoyed it. He liked his teammates for the most part too. 

It’s not like he hates volleyball or wants to quit by his own choice. He almost feels like he can’t be a player anymore, as if it’s not an option anymore. He can barely stand at the front of a place he considered home in a way. A place that is comforting, one that makes you ease and you know just what to do, isn’t that what a home is supposed to be? One where you don’t have to try but you do anyways because you want to, despite the annoying person to your left babbling about this or that. 

But he can’t consider it home anymore. 

Because this home, this place, it’s grown painful. He can’t stand it. The pain throbs in his chest and he knows he can’t do this. He just can’t. 

He has to let Osamu go. In turn, he has to let volleyball go. He doesn’t think he could bear to play alongside him. Hell, he couldn’t even bear to sit in the same room as him. It was all too much and too soon. Maybe one day, but at this moment? He couldn’t. That was an impossible to expect from him. 

His jersey. He brought it with him, he forgot to change on Friday before skipping. He should give it back, maybe they can give it to a newcomer or something like that. He pulls on the zipper of his bag open and pulls the red and black jacket out. He holds it in his hand for a second. 

It was basically forced inside the schoolbag, causing the farbic to wrinkle and stray hairs had found their way onto it from the family pet he had managed to get a few licks of encouragement out of when he was still drying his tears. He hopes Kita won’t mind too much, it is a little dirty. He’d hate to be troublesome for his upperclassmen. 

He breathes in and out, calming every nerve in his body. He clears his head, thinking of nothing as he steps back away from the metal opening to the gym. He folds the jersey and places it on the ground. He pulls out the resignation slip he printed from the school’s website and placed it on top. 

Dramatic, but that’s all Suna seems to be these days. 

If it is troublesome for his upperclassmen, he hopes they can forgive him because it has to be done. He needs to leave. 

He has to leave for himself. He has to take care of himself first.

Kita always did say self-care was important above all else and before everything else. He’ll take those wise words into consideration as he spends the day at home faking sick to his parents before spending half the day crying with the agony he still feels and half the day figuring out how he can graduate properly while skipping classes. He’ll manage that somehow, he’s sure of it. Maybe he can switch classes, that would be good. 

For right now, that’s all he has. This is all he can give and all he can give is nothing. 

_ ‘Easy they come, easy they go. I jump from the train, I ride off alone. I never grew up, it's getting so old, help me hold onto you.’ _

“You left this the other day,” A calm voice said from behind him as he sat on one of the benches located in the outside area of the cafeteria. He had been able to switch classes, but they still had the same lunch hour. He was going through so much effort to avoid Osamu, to make sure he never catches a glance of him, only to find himself unable to shake him. It’s so frustrating. 

He blinked for a moment, a few days had passed since the last time he wrote in the journal, scribbling down poetic nonsense as he found himself more lost and lost with each day passing him by. He placed the pencil down on the paper and shifted his body, turning towards the familiar voice. He was the one last person he expected to come after him, especially after he had been so cowardly, even if it was for the sake of his health. 

His Captain - well not anymore - stood there in the same ugly uniform that Suna thought made him look unsightly yet seemed to be trimmed well to Kita’s body, almost as if it was tailored to him to make even a boring shade like that look good on him. In his hand was the jersey, the one he had left on the doorstep of the gym where they practiced day-in and day-out. The red brought a sight of freshness to the outside area’s bleak color palette. It stood out, obnoxiously so. It almost made his eyes hurt. 

“I know I did,” Suna spoke, careful. He couldn’t mess this up. He had gotten good at avoiding the twins, but he didn’t think it would be Kita coming to confront him. He thought Aran or Ren would. Kita confronting him was somehow even scarier. “I left my resignation paper with it too.” 

“If you’re going to do something,” Kita said with calm eyes. “You should do it right. I’m your Captain and you have a coach, you should have told us you planned on quitting. You’re one of our front-runners, Suna.” 

He should have known Kita would be pissed. This guy was always about going through life using the right ways and the right routes objectively. That mindset was practically drilled into everything in his life. Even from just a glance, you can see that. From the way he holds himself, to how he speaks, the expression he makes; it’s all just him making sure to do things right because it feels good. 

“My bad,” Suna frowned. 

‘Just get it over with, just let it happen,’ he reminded himself. Soon, it would all be over. Soon, this would pass him by and be a fleeting embarrassing memory that he’ll want to erase down the line. 

“If you’re going to leave, you should tell the team too. Say goodbye to them properly.” Kita continued. “Don’t you agree, Suna?” 

‘The team?’ Fear was invoked almost like a reflex. Osamu was apart of that team. He didn’t want to face him. He didn’t want to face Atsumu either. He was probably laughing it up whenever Osamu told him he tricked Suna, that he had won the bet. 

“No.” Suna turned back to face the table, glaring down at the lunch tray that he had yet to finish, lost in his own writing. “I can’t, I’m sorry Kita-san.” 

There was a beat of silence. Suna had never felt so small before. He wanted to curl into himself and die that way. This was the worst. He hated this so much. 

He never took himself as a coward before but if this was what it meant to be a coward, then so be it. He needed to be there for himself. He needed to put himself first before the team, before Osamu. 

He heard a confusing hum from Kita behind him before he spoke again, “Did something happen between you and one of the twins? You don’t talk to any newcomers, I’m close with the third-years too. They would have admitted if an argument would have happened, and then there’s the second-years, the twins...did something happen?” 

Suna felt exposed all of sudden. Was he that obvious? Had he been this entire team? He never knew Kita had been watching him so intently. It made him nervous, anxiety blossoming up in his chest like a wild, murderous flower. 

“...so it was the twins, huh?” An unexpected display of warmth was detected to his side as the sound of clothes rustling accompanied it. He could sense it, Kita was right there, sitting next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

‘I don’t,’ Suna thought, tapping on the open pages of the notebook. ‘But I don’t think I have a choice.’ 

“Me and Osamu just had a fight is all…” He tried to explain in the least words of all. He didn’t want his Captain to see him as weak or pathetic. He didn’t want Kita to know the great pains and emotional deception that he had been put through in the former weeks.

“Just a fight?” Kita hummed, “That’s strange, everyone has fights, but not everyone skips school and practice entirely, deciding to quit a sport they spent a lot of time playing. I heard you even transferred out of 2-1.”

A deer in headlights; that’s what he was. 

He felt so shocked and baffled by the bluntness of Kita’s words he forgot to respond. Just staring with wide eyes as Kita returned his stare with a calm expression, devoid of anxiety or nervousness. He seemed so cool and collected, but then again, he always was. Unlike the rest of them, he always managed to do things swiftly and efficiently, even if he wasn’t the top at everything he did. He wasn’t a starting player but that didn’t make him any less useless as a player either. 

In this this moment, he wishes he would have just transferred out of school too. 

“Well?” Kita blinked. “Are you going to respond?”

“I…” Suna gritted his teeth. He wanted everyone to buzz off so he could get over Osamu already, but here was Kita forcing his way in. It’s not like he could say no either! “It wasn’t  _ just  _ a fight. He tricked me and lied to me for some stupid bet.”

“He betrayed you? How?” If Suna didn’t know any better, he’d almost say Kita’s eyes looked a little more somber than before. 

He wanted to groan out loud. Man, this sucks! Of course he just had to be confronted by Kita of all people. 

“He….asked me out and I said yes,” Suna started, trying to find the right words to say. He needed to be careful or he would start balling like a baby again. He had enough of that the past week, it was time to move forward. “We broke up some time ago, he said it was for a bet with Atsumu and that he didn’t like me that way at all.” 

Another beat of silence rang over them. 

“Oh, I see,” Kita said gently. “That makes sense. You’re not the type to do anything reckless like this without good reason.”

“Huh?” Suna muttered. 

“Well, I was worried when you skipped practice with no calls informing me, the coach, or anyone on the team. I felt worse when I couldn’t find you during class hours either, I’m glad I was able to catch you during lunch hour today.” Kita gave a small smile, “I was baffled when I discovered your jersey and your paper at the doorstep. It gave me quite the scare.” 

“Oh,” Suna said. “I’m...sorry about that.” 

Kita placed the jersey on top of the open notebook. Unlike how he left it, it had been washed and clean. He could feel the warmth it emitted from being freshly dried and it was free of any wrinkles. The stray pet hairs had been linted down and casted aside. 

Since Kita was the one to discover it, that means he was the one to clean it. He took time out of his day making sure to properly wash it, dry it down, and run over it with a lint-roller for good measure. He took time out of his precious day to make sure it was pristine and fresh-looking as the day he had been given it long ago. He had put so much care and thought into this, simply for Suna, unknowing if he would come back or not. 

He did this for Suna. 

But not even something like that can make him reconsider so easily. 

Just as soon as he opened his mouth, Kita spoke first. Always the more eloquent and expressive one of the two, it seemed. 

“That has nothing to do with why you suddenly quit,” Kita spoke, looking directly into Suna’s eyes. “It shouldn’t at the very least.” 

“Huh?” Suna blabbered out.

“If you want to carry on with your decision to quit, then I’ll respect it.” Kita said. “However, you should be quitting because you want to quit, not because of him. You played volleyball for yourself, didn’t you? I don’t see why that has to change.” 

“...” 

What? 

Kita smiled softly and reached up, gently patting Suna’s hair. “I’m glad you have self-respect for yourself and you’re not wrong if not ever wanting to see him again, but don’t let him steal another part of your life away from you. He hurt your heart before, don’t let him steal this love away from you too.”

Kita’s hand is soft and gentle as he rubs Suna’s head, making the brunette grow warm. What the hell is happening here? 

“You’re a good boy, so I know you’ll make the right decision. Not for the team, but for you.” Kita’s soft smile widened. His eyes were undeniably soft and glistening from the afternoon sun. “I’ll leave you be. You can come later on and drop off your jersey once you know your answer. I’ll be waiting, okay?” 

“...okay.” Suna felt like the wind was knocked out of him, shock still pushing through his veins. 

_ ‘But what if I'm alright, right, right, right here? _

_ And I cut off my nose just to spite my face, _

_ then I hate my reflection for years and years.’ _

The fabric is burning against his fingers, like the fiery red it is. That anxiety is blossoming again, over and over as if it’s spring inside him. He stares at the metal doors that he had stopped at days prior, his heart uncertain of what to do. 

He needs to quit this club. 

Yes, he enjoys the sport. Yes, he enjoys his interaction with the third-years. Yes, he wishes he could keep playing. Yes, he wanted to go Nationals with all of them. 

But he can’t do that. He’s not sure if he could do that. Not with Osamu right there, reminding him just how truly easy he can be played. How is he supposed to trust Osamu or Atsumu on the court now? How is he supposed to have faith in his teammates now? 

He doesn’t know. 

That’s why he has to say no to all of this. It’s why he has to leave and say goodbye to the sport he once loved and enjoyed with all of his heart thrown into it. That’s why its come to all of this, to this point. 

He knows what he has to do. 

He presses against the metal doors, pushing them open with a sharp intake of breath. Everyone’s eyes are going to be on him, he just knows it. It’s going to be so awkward and they’re going to ask so many questions. He’s going to look back on this memory with so much shame and regret and wish he could just forget it already by then. 

As his feet are firmly planted on the gym floor, the metal doors shut quietly behind him, there is none of that. Everyone is on the court, practicing against each other. Atsumu is the setter on one side and Osamu is the other setter. Ttwin vs twin, huh? 

Where noisy anxiety-inducing questions are supposed to be, there’s namecalls, squeaky sneakers, and the familiar sound of ‘Nice serve!’ being tossed around every time. There’s something so homey to it all. As he stands there, still as a statue, he remembers the feeling of belonging on that court, as a player deserving of their spot as a starting player. 

And he has to throw that all away….

There’s a new pain throbbing in his chest, a different kind from the waves he had been feeling before due to Osamu. 

He has to give it up. He knows he does. It’s for the best, not just for himself, but for the team as well! He had already decided on it.

“Kita-san!” He hears Atsumu yell out in a breathless voice, immediately making Suna’s gaze snap to that sight of the court. He watches with wide eyes and a gaped mouth as Kita’s shoes dig into the gym floor before jumping himself into the air. 

His form isn’t flawless. In reality, he supposes it’s nothing special.

But there’s something about it. 

Kita’s gaze is directly focused on the ball and nothing but it. Nothing else seems to matter in that moment but landing that perfect spike in the perfect moment on the perfect section of the court. He’s a little drenched in sweat, his skin glowing red, and his clothes cling against him. He looks just like any other volleyball player in reality,

And yet when his spike lands, just like he planned it out to, and his feet fall back into place onto the ground, it hits more than just the court. Maybe it’s only to Suna’s ears, but it rings through the court and it attacks his very core. 

When Kita begrudgingly high-fives Atsumu, there’s a tug on his heart. He wants to be there, on the court. 

“Suna!” Kita calls out to him happily once he sees him with a tired but pleased smile. He brings his hands together, forming a T before walking off the court and towards him. “I apologize, we started without you. The coach is in a hurry today, we can tap you in right away though. After all, we wouldn’t want you to lose any of your talent, so it’s important to hurry up and get it back on track so you’re well-prepared for Nationals.”

Could Kita sense his internal challenge? Did he know he had been wisted away by the very sight of Kita’s spike in action? How could he...was he a mind reader? No, those don’t exist. 

He stared down at Kita, his mouth flapping open and close like a fish. 

“Well,” Kita grinned. “What do you say?” 

“...okay.” He says, breathless. 

_ ‘I've been the archer, I’ve been the prey _

_ Who could ever leave me, darling? _

_ But who could stay?’ _

The sight of Osamu still hurts him sometimes. Its been weeks, but sometimes, it’s too much. He wants to run away, he wants to hide from it all. Even as he stands outside with no Osamu Miya in sight, his heart aches knowing how he was betrayed. Everyday, he wonders, ‘Can I do this? Can I function? Will I be okay?’ Because he’s not sure. 

What if he can’t trust anyone again? What happens then? Because he already feels like that’s happening all over again. His heart is racing with his cheeks fuming as Kita smiles, handing him an umbrella in the midst of the rain. 

As cool as a glass of water, Kita smiles endearingly up at him. “I don’t want to see my baby sick, okay? Especially not my favorite middle blocker. You should take it, I’ll be alright. Unlike silly you, I pack for emergencies.” 

He watches as Kita pulls a rain poncho over himself, buttoning it all in place. On anyone else, it looks really silly and dumb. They aren’t meant to be fashionable or even comfortable, so it makes sense and yet it looks good on Kita. He looks adorable in it, the shade of cherry red fitting him in a strange way he never knew it could. 

“Okay, Captain,” He finds himself saying. When he’s around Kita lately, he feels breathless. He feels like he felt with Osamu, before it was all destroyed. The feeling grows more and more each day. He’s not stupid, he knows this feeling. He knows it better than anyone, but what if it ends up in disaster like the last time? Isn’t it too soon? These worries fill his head everyday at every moment possible, but they vanish, for just a single second, when Kita’s face lights up at Suna’s agreement. 

“Well then, goodnight, Rintarou,” Kita says, holding the poncho close to his body with one hand waving him bye. He doesn’t want to part, not yet. He wants to spend more time with Kita. He wants to talk to him more, about whatever the Captain feels fit. 

He wants to trust in Kita and have faith in him. He wants to believe he can trust in what he’s feeling. He wants to be free with how he feels again, to be able to say proudly by his side that he loves him. He wants to hold hands and go on boring movie dates. He wants to find himself lost in the lectures that Kita could teach him. He wants to forget his name as he stares at Kita’s beautiful frame, on the court or not. 

He wants to have that again. 

But he wants to do it right. 

He knows love isn’t the answer to fixing the mess with Osamu, he would never be so cruel to someone else like how Osamu had been. He doesn’t want a replacement. He even feels like these feelings are almost abnormal. He almost feels like he’s betraying Osamu somehow. 

He’s not sure of a lot of things. He knows that, but what he does know is that these feelings are real and raw, honest to his very core. He wants to try, if Kita wanted to try, 

Kita stops waving, his eyes going wide for a moment before he lets out a happy sigh. He steps towards Suna, closer than he was before and tilts his head up. “I apologize if I’m misreading you and have been for this entire time, but if you want to walk home together and hold hands, I don’t mind one bit.”

And just like before, in those prior months, he felt exposed to Kita, who seems to know all. Maybe he really is a mind reader after all. 

“You’re...you’re not reading it wrong, Kita-san.” 

“You can call me Shinsuke,” He smiles widely, clasping his hand around Suna’s cold one. It’s warmth and soft, making little sparks go off inside him. He feels so awkward yet so complete in this moment. He decides he’ll let Kita take the lead, “And I like you too.” 

_ ‘Who could stay?’ _

_ ‘You could stay.’  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
